


Roll Up Your Sleeves

by grimeysociety



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Darcy Lewis Is a Good Bro, F/M, Natasha Romanov Lives, Skinny!Steve, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25646188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: Since he arrived back from Vormir with Natasha, frail and dizzy from the impact of exchanging the Stone for his friend’s life – he knew it was a price he’d pay if he was given the choice, but that wasn’t the point – he supposed his usefulness would be brought into question.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 62
Kudos: 320





	Roll Up Your Sleeves

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I said I'd get here. 
> 
> Also, Em_Jaye made the very valid point that playlists are always a good idea for accompanying fic. To be specific, she said this on the I Ship It Podcast (episode 92, "Hit the Road"). [I made a playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0S3MmyJP104QR8hWGHeqIi?si=GwnCl1icTe-wCYbz5JrjQQ).  
> I tend to only do this for my longer fics, but fuck it, right? It's 2020, fuck it.

_Well, everything is gonna be alright_  
**\- "Roll Up Your Sleeves" by Meg Mac**

“When the world turned to shit, we weren’t here. So you’re already at an advantage now.”

Steve admired her unwavering confidence. There was a familiar stubbornness to it, all five-feet-three-inches of her, hands on her wide hips. The sweat was shining on her brow and lean neck, and she blew a piece of hair out of her face at the wind picked up.

She and Jane Foster arrived late yesterday, after they managed to convince someone higher up at SHIELD that they could be useful. Steve wasn’t about to argue that – they needed all the help they could get, but he wondered exactly what Darcy Lewis’ qualifications were.

He was one to talk. Since he arrived back from Vormir with Natasha, frail and dizzy from the impact of exchanging the Stone for his friend’s life – he knew it was a price he’d pay if he was given the choice, but that wasn’t the point – he supposed his usefulness would be brought into question.

“Who are you?” Sam asked, his broad arms folded.

He wasn’t hostile. Steve read him as vaguely amused, like when he witnessed him meet Rocket. Darcy wore an oversized t-shirt that read **_THE MAN_** with an arrow pointing upwards, with the text beneath **_THE LEGEND_** with a second arrow pointing toward her crotch.

“Darcy Lewis,” she said. “Who are _you_?”

-

None of Steve’s clothes fit. He reminded himself of that when he went to shower that night after a dinner much smaller than what he was used to. He didn’t have half the appetite he once had. He could recall other people on the team bitching over the years about how much he put away, eating them out of house and home.

He borrowed a pair of pants from Nat and wore an old shirt of his that draped over his butt and made his arms look twig-like, but Darcy caught his eye as he walked back out into the makeshift kitchen. They were living out of shipping crates on the edge of the old battle ground, and Steve tried to not think about all the dust that still lay behind them whenever the wind whistled in his ears. He supposed he should get a hotel room somewhere, but the dam of guilt would truly burst then, and he didn’t want to be alone to deal with that, despite his instincts to hide.

A voice told him she was looking at him with pity but her lips pulled into a smile and he felt himself unfurl a little, mirroring her expression as he packed the dishes on the pile she was working on at the sink.

“Lemme help,” he said, and he turned to pick up a dish towel to dry what she’d stacked to the side, soapy water getting everywhere.

She was a little messy and Steve found himself liking that about her. She didn’t seem to mind anything thrown her way. Standing beside her, they were about the same height, but she was wearing a pair of sneakers with thick foam bottoms, while Steve went without shoes.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, handing him a clean plate.

“Okay, I guess,” he replied. “Where were you, before?”

“Norway,” Darcy said.

His brows lifted a little.

“I would’ve come to Tony’s…”

Her sentence fell away and he nodded. It tended to happen whenever he inevitably came up in conversation. The news hadn’t stopped talking about him, not for weeks and weeks, and rightly so. He’d saved them all, but Steve couldn’t bear it anymore. He knew Bucky felt the same way, unable to make amends for everything he had no control over.

“We were stuck trying to get a plane ticket for a couple weeks,” Darcy went on, shrugging a shoulder. “It was awful, all those families cramped into airports so desperate to get home.”

“I can’t imagine,” Steve murmured. “Are SHIELD gonna keep you?”

“I hope so,” Darcy said, a little laugh escaping. “God knows I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She went back to work, the pair of them falling silent. She only spoke sometime later when he offered to make her a cup of coffee. He handed her a mug and they settled in the grass outside, her eyes skyward.

“Jane knew him,” she said, as if their conversation about Tony hadn’t stopped. “I got to meet him once. He called me ‘Barbara Stanwyck’.”

Steve smirked, their eyes meeting.

_That is the kind of woman that makes whole civilizations topple._

He remembered that from a movie of hers, one she did with Gary Cooper. She burst into a smile, and he saw the gap between her front teeth peeking through.

“Anyway,” she murmured, her head ducking. “I wonder what he’d think of this whole operation.”

“He would be _pissed_ ,” Steve said, and they both chuckled.

There was a pause and he felt Darcy’s eyes on them, his mind still on Tony. If he was alive, he would have taken the Stones back with him. He would have looked at Steve bent over at the waist, trying desperately to pull in a fortifying breath and set himself the new task of making a new serum. He would have gone into the Stark archives and fished out what he could of Howard’s notes, if there were any, or hacked SHIELD to find something to crack wide open.

“You got something else stronger?” Darcy said, and Steve’s eyes swung to meet hers.

“Yeah.”

They drank beer on their backs, their shoulders brushing in the dirt. If Steve was sober, he wouldn’t be lying down, getting his clothes this dirty, but he hadn’t been able to feel this way in decades, and Darcy seemed to inspire something in him to keep going, the lightweight that he was.

“I gave the shield to Sam,” he murmured, rubbing his face.

He didn’t recall if Darcy had outright asked him about being Captain America, but it was obvious he was retired now. He couldn’t run let alone wield his vibranium shield, and Sam could.

“I heard a rumor you could lift Mew-Mew,” Darcy said, and Steve frowned at her in confusion, squinting at her in the dark.

“Mew-Mew?”

“Thor’s hammer,” Darcy said, and he felt another smile form of its own accord.

-

“You like her,” Bucky said, and Steve glanced his way, frowning on reflex.

It wasn’t accusatory, it was simply stated, and Steve didn’t deny it. Getting to know Darcy over the last few weeks, he had grown attached. It was easy to like her, and he found himself looking forward to seeing her during little intervals of the day.

Steve put his inhaler to his lips and took a hit, Bucky’s brow quirking at him.

“Don’t be a punk, ask her out.”

It was an echo of the past. Steve could never push himself into asking anyone out, knowing he wasn’t enough for any pretty girl Bucky pushed his way. He didn’t feel inadequate now, but it was such a stark contrast, reminders of who he used to be everywhere.

Darcy told him she grew up with a stack of his comics passed down from her grandfather, to her father and then to her.

There was a rumor that started that Captain America had died during the Battle for Earth, and Steve didn’t mind. If he could fade into obscurity, his face a little like a hero from long ago, he’d be okay with that.

-

“Steve.”

He went still as Darcy moved toward him, shaking her head a little. She was reaching for his sleeves, rolling them up as she chuckled.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” she whispered, with a fondness that made Steve’s stomach flip.

His sleeves had fallen down as they pushed a cart down a supermarket aisle, and he hadn’t thought she was paying attention, since she was in her own world, talking about making tacos that night.

As she moved back, he tugged her back, dipping his head to press a kiss to her lips. Darcy went still, her hand wrapped around his wrist, his hand clutching her face as his thumb brushed her cheek. It was slow and tender, which Steve hadn’t expected. He half-thought he’d stumble and ruin the moment, but when he pulled back slowly, eyes lingering on Darcy’s full lips, she gave a shy grin.

“You took your time.”

“Really?” he threw back, voice lower.

Their noses brushed and he smiled into another kiss.

-

She stole him for a whole day, driving with the windows down as they kept stealing glances at one another. Darcy said it was a crime to sit around inside all day when it was summer. Something had to give.

Steve put a bony arm around her and she curled her arm around his waist, standing with him in front of an ice cream place a few towns over.

Feeling wicked, feeling so close to her that it felt natural, he licked a streak of French vanilla ice cream from her thumb and licked his lips, watching her to see her reaction.

He texted Bucky something about staying overnight in the seaside town, not elaborating, but he didn’t need to. He could feel the joy Bucky had for him with the reply:

**_She’s a bad influence_ **

They both knew Steve was the little punk, after all, and Darcy only followed his schemes with her head held high, her laughter music to his ears.

-

He lay on his back on the scratchy, cheap motel quilt cover, sweat breaking out all over his body. His chest felt a little tight, but he was okay, he was better than okay as Darcy climbed on top of him, making a shaky descent as he stretched her.

Her tight wetness was enough to make his heart leap into his throat, his pulse rich, and he was getting light-headed already, both of them panting as Darcy began to ride him with slow circles of her hips.

His fingers bit into her hip, his other hand cupping one of her breasts, her berry-tipped nipple between his fingers. Their eyes locked and Steve could feel his face growing hot from exertion. Darcy closed her eyes, sighing as she began to climb a little faster, rocking on his lap.

She took his hand from her hip and placed his fingers on the cut of her, rubbing the little bundle of nerves just above where he split her open, a bubble of laughter escaping her when he found a sweet spot. His other hand, she took from her breast and brought up to her mouth, sucking his fingers into her hot mouth, and Steve moaned, a tug beneath his navel…

When she came, she went still, Steve’s knees drawing up to buck up into her. She shuddering, lowering herself to meet his face, kissing him with a sloppy desperation as he moved faster, chasing his own end –

“Fuck,” he gasped, and his eyes flew shut.

He floated for three whole seconds, his toes curling as he came deep inside her, his arms wrapped around her to cuddle her to his bony chest. He held her there for a little while, both of them panting as he saw spots, the heat of the room stifling.

Darcy moved off of him, and all he could do was lie there, watching her open the bedroom window a little wider, her hair wild, strands of it sticking to her naked back, her curves jiggling.

“Come back,” he whispered.

-

The following morning when he went into the bathroom to wash his face, he got up too quickly, and nearly fell flat on his face.

“Steve, your blood pressure,” Darcy whispered, and he nodded, knowing he couldn’t argue with her.

She held him from behind, kissing his shoulder.

“Little idiot,” she whispered, and he met her gaze in the mirror, leaning against the sink.

“Little? You’re one to talk -”

“I’m average-sized,” she retorted.

“You are _short_ , Darcy Lewis,” he said, turning around to kiss her.

**Author's Note:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


End file.
